The Musician with an Obsession
by frankielefantome
Summary: Christine has plagued Erik's thoughts for long enough. He goes out to search for her. / If you can, read the short story "Lady with the Lapdog" by Anton Chekhov first. This is an imitation piece.


For months after his last encounter with Christine Dubois, Erik had allowed her to plague his thoughts, keeping him awake at night and distracting him from work during the day. Even his wife had begun to notice the subtle change in his thoughts. She often remarked that he never really listened to her anymore due to a seemingly permanent far-away look in his eyes. At first he shrugged off her suspicions, claiming that she was being worked up over something that had no truth to it, and he could not help but roll his eyes whenever she accused him of such mental abandonment. Little did she know how right she actually was.

It was on a particularly cold February day that Erik decided that enough was enough. He had to find Christine and arrange for another meeting between them. It was not just a wish – it was a physical _need_. For this reason he found himself driving past the snowy scenery provided by the interstate to the city of Albany in search of Christine. He would not, _could not_ rest until this task was completed.

It was not terribly difficult to locate her residence; one only needed to read the names on the rows of mailboxes. He parked his car around the corner from her house and walked back to take a closer look.

There was an aged picket fence enclosing the house, but that in itself was not what had Erik distraught; the structure appeared as if it had not received any maintenance for a century or more, and he had to wonder what sort of fiancée would let his bride-to-be live in such a place. Surely she must know that there is a better life out there than this. Erik shot a scowl at the fence, cursing its existence that kept him from seeing the woman of his utmost desires.

'Even if she were there, her fiancée must be home as well,' he thought to himself. The scowl on his face deepened, his eyebrows furrowing at the thought of another man with _his_ Christine. He stalked around the perimeter for a good hour, the spark of hope that she would see him and come outside quickly put out as the harsh wind blew the falling snow to and fro. Discouraged and chilled to the bone, Erik huffed and returned to his car, where he drove back to and warmed up in his hotel room.

'It seems that this has been a waste of time,' he complained silently. 'I thought for sure she would be anxious to catch a glimpse of me. There is no way she couldn't have seen me outside… Why didn't she come? Damn women, and damn this city!'

Erik called for room service and requested a bottle of white wine, intending to drink away his sorrow and disdain for his present situation. The service boy knocked on the door approximately ten minutes later and set the bottle and a crystal glass on the coffee table. From his position on the bed, Erik casually watched the boy before shooing him out of the room. With a grunt, Erik was up off the bed and pouring the beverage into the glass. It wasn't long before the bottle was emptied of its contents and the middle-aged man was propped up comfortably against the hotel mattress once more.

It was during this time that Erik mused over his love life thus far. In high school, he had been quite the romantic, wooing over the majority of the female population with his astounding musical talent, and this continued through his college years. This is how he met his current wife; she had been attracted to his music, the way his fingers caressed the keys so lovingly yet confidently. They were married within six months after they had graduated, and things were looking good… then, out of the blue, his wife whom he had adored and wished to constantly please had proven to be disloyal to him. He supposed this was why he felt compelled to chase after Christine. _An eye for an eye_, as the saying goes.

He was about to drift off in a nap when he had the sudden urge to go ice skating. 'She seems like someone who would skate on a day like today,' he reasoned, 'surely she will not fail me again.'

He dressed himself to fend off the bitter cold and headed out to find the local skating rink. It turned out that there was more than one, and Erik thought about cursing his luck when he saw her – there, across the ice. It couldn't have been anyone else. A gust of wind blew her dirty blonde curls around carelessly, and he took the opportunity to duck out of her view for a moment, heart pounding in his chest. This would be a make-it-or-break-it deal, and the thought made him nervous. He had to tell himself that she was here alone, she was miserable, and that he was saving her from an otherwise bland existence.

With these thoughts in mind, he dashed out in the direction of the ice. What he had not been anticipating, however, was a face plant into the snow. As fast as he could, he picked himself up from the snow and found himself face to face with Christine's fiancée.

How he knew this he could not say for sure, but her brief descriptions of the man were more than enough for Erik to pick him out of the crowd. He was a man of average height and build, average facial features, average clothing. There was nothing especially extraordinary about him that let Erik know that he was in the presence of his greatest enemy, yet somehow his averageness was a bit _too_ obvious. Even his voice, which was now asking him if he was alright, was perfectly plain, and it was all he could do not to tell him right there and then about his affair with Christine. Instead he offered him a smile more fake than Michael Jackson's nose, and politely declined any proposal of assistance, insisting that he had somewhere to be… that somewhere just so happened to be on the ice with his Christine.

His feet slipped multiple times as he crossed the ice, not bothering with skates, but he did not fall after the first incident in the snow. He was about twenty feet away from his prize when Christine's gaze locked onto him. Her eyes, teal as the ocean, widened in surprise and shock. Her arms flailed out to the side in her attempt to back away from him.

'This wasn't how things were supposed to go,' Erik thought despairingly. In a few seconds his long fingers caught her wrist and she was forced to look into his eyes, eyes that were pleading for a second chance… pleading for love.

"Christine," he wheezed, sounding more like a sick old man than an enamored romantic, "I thought I would never see you again."

"You weren't supposed to see me again," she replied, her voice cloaked in fear. Her eyes darted around the landscape, obviously looking for her husband-to-be. Erik reached up and took hold of her chin, trying to keep some control of the situation.

"You and I both know that would have left us living out miserable existences. Please, just come back to Ithaca with me. I promise you will not regret it."

"But I _will," _she insisted, taking hold of the hand that held her chin, "You don't understand. I cannot leave this poor man." She bites her lower lip as though unsure if she should continue, when another gust of wind blew across the rink, leaving her shivering with cold. "Please, Erik… If you love me at all, you will let me be. I can't be with you, I just can't."

"That's not _true. _Let me take you from this place… Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before…" By now Erik was pleading, and he knew it, but he was certainly feeling desperate. "Before you I did not know what true love was, and now I cannot see myself without you. You have been ever present in my thoughts since the day we parted, and I do not know what I will do if you leave me again." His hands had a firm grip on her upper arms, feeling as though she may slip away if he did not hold her in some way.

There were tears in her beautiful blue eyes, and it registered in his mind that he had somehow caused them. He was about to wipe a stray droplet from her cheek when she broke free of his grasp and did it herself. As suddenly as he had grabbed her, his hands were now in her grasp, and she spoke low and fast.

"I will come to Ithaca, alright? I will. But not right this minute. There are things that I must sort out here first. I promise," she said, giving his gloved hands a squeeze, "you _will _see me again. We can discuss our future from there. Now go, before my fiancée sees you speaking with me!"

With that, she pushed him away from her and skated off toward the man to whom she was engaged.

Erik's mind was racing, but one thing she had said stuck out. It let him know what he had silently wondered all along – she really did love him as much as he loved her, though she was not quick to admit it.

'_Our _future…'


End file.
